"Analog"

choreography by Katharine Hawthorne

Joe Goode Annex, San Francisco

February 23^rd, 2013

Katharine Hawthorne’s second full-length work, “Analog”, comprehensively studies range of motion. This sixty-five minute contemporary dance performance creates a ‘living’ Venn Diagram, where our physical/kinesthetic boundaries form one circle and movement possibilities form the second. From there, Hawthorne seeks to understand that important middle area of intersection, and to that end, how the physical (anatomy, space) affects range of motion. Rudolf Laban would be proud to see such a pure examination of direction, articulation, and extremes.

Photo: Ben Hersh

“Analog’s” sole set piece was an overhead projector (credited as ‘Apollo’ in the program) that displayed different patent specification drawings throughout the dance. This projector was moved several times during the piece so that the projections could appear in differing places on the two huge white walls. The first patent transparency was that of an artificial hand (file date – 1927) and provided the first image for Hawthorne’s choreographic exploration. After a brief entrance phrase, the entire cast (three women, two men) began a long section of hand intonation. A wide variety of movements were present: small and large; relaxed and static; voluntary and involuntary, abrupt and deliberate. This lengthy variation crescendoed over time, building into a more abandoned full body segment, where the hand movement was still the obvious point of initiation.

Next, the overhead projector was moved farther away so that it could display a new patent drawing on a much larger scale, encompassing most of one wall. Three dancers began a new movement phrase right in front of this ‘projected screen’, creating a sense that they were in front of the image, yet in it at the same time. This portion of “Analog” was a choreographical highlight, a throw back to early Cunningham: straightness in the spine, elastic limbs, all planes of the body (sagittal, coronal, transverse). This vignette was also proof that Hawthorne is drawn to interpreting all ranges of motion, from individual anatomy to the whole body in space. And for such a physical piece, there was only one very minor collision throughout – the dancers for the most part had very good spatial awareness.   

“Analog’s” repetitive motion/accumulation chapter was another standout. Here, the entire cast began with the same movement: unfolding the right side of the body. Then, different individuals moved on and added to this initial step, at their own pace, in their own time. After a while, all five were back in unison, having reached a new movement pattern. Brilliantly camouflaged within Hawthorne’s choreography, this was all underscored by a very appropriate and well-matched heartbeat soundscape.

My only criticism is that some of the internal segments were a little long. Not all of them, but a few went on well past their prime. The ending also seemed a bit ill-timed. About five minutes before the blackout, there was a clear wind-down where the dancers met with a moment of repose. It would have been a perfect ending, but instead, there was a final burst of energy. While it was impressive that the cast could rally for one last set of movement phrases, the final five minutes felt like an extra, unrelated add-on.  

Ballet San Jose - "Don Quixote"

San Jose Center for the Performing Arts

February 16^th, 2013

No matter which company is presenting it, “Don Quixote” is not my favorite full-length narrative ballet. I find it puzzling that in most versions, the protagonist and namesake of the work plays a very minor, almost absentee role. In addition, Act II (the Gypsies/Dryads) seems to happen very much in isolation, being thrown into the middle with little purpose, meaning or relation to the rest of the ballet. That being said, even I can admit when a good version of “Don Quixote” comes along, as was the case with Ballet San Jose’s company premiere (staged by Wes Chapman after Marius Petipa and Alexander Gorsky). The story, as always, still had these inherent issues, but the performances, choreography and design were delightful.

Junna Ige as Kitri
Photo: Robert Shomler

Act I’s opening scene was enchanting – the costuming, stage decoration and ambiance working together to transport the audience to a vibrant Spanish village. At this performance, soloist Junna Ige danced the role of Kitri, and her first solo was the stuff ballet dreams are made of. Ige has the technical chops for this demanding role, yet her commitment to artistry was the shining star. Over the years, the famous Kitri grand jeté (the one with the back leg in attitude) has turned into a jump that is all about the dancer’s head touching her back leg. Though Ige was true to the choreography and probably does have the flexibility to accomplish this feat, her jeté reflected the character’s intention, personality and joie de vivre. Ige wasn’t trying to create a spectacle by doing tricks, rather, she was embodying Kitri. Maykel Solas, as Basilio, had some brilliant moments including his Act I pirouette series – anyone who can manage four/five rotations to the left, while slowing down to hold the final pirouette position on demi-pointe deserves some extra praise.

Act II’s story does need some better cohesion with and connectedness to the rest of the ballet, yet one cannot ignore its standout performances. Maria Jacobs-Yu’s Cupid was perfection, both in technique and character interpretation. She was part imp, part matchmaker, part supernatural, all while managing some challenging choreography. The entrechat quatre batterie and relevé passé sequence was simply transcendent. Jing Zhang as the Queen of the Dryads was appropriately statuesque and regal, though I wish that she had put her heel down all the way to the floor in between each fouetté relevé, for no other reason than to spare her Achilles tendon. And in the swarm of ethereal splendor, one of the Dryads absolutely sparkled. Ballet San Jose apprentice Kathryn Meeusen will definitely be one to watch in the years to come.

One thing that I have noticed with Ballet San Jose is that more often than not, in the larger group scenes, the stage looks crowded. And this doesn’t seem to be because of sets/props that are too big or costumes that are too overwhelming, there are just too many dancers onstage at one time. And sometimes the choreography suffers a bit as a result. During the Act I Toreadors’ variation, one of the corps women was unable to extend her front leg in jeté, not because she couldn’t, but because she would have kicked someone, who incidentally also had nowhere to move, no way to adjust and no space to get out of the way.    

"Parades and Changes" by Anna Halprin

presented by BAM/PFA 

University of California, Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archive

February 15^th, 2013

Last weekend, the Berkeley Art Museum/Pacific Film Archive was home to a much anticipated three-night return of Anna Halprin’s 1965 work, “Parades and Changes”. Rumored to be this dance’s final staging, these three performances served a dual purpose. First, they introduced this famous work (or infamous, depending on who you ask) to a new generation and second, they helped to complete an artistic circle. Halprin’s postmodern composition was part of BAM/PFA’s opening in 1970 and the institute is currently readying itself to move to a new home over the next few years. With this 2013 engagement, “Parades and Changes” has bookended a large section of the BAM/PFA story; providing a fitting sense of closure to one chapter and launching the entity into its next season of life.

“Parades and Changes” began as composer Morton Subotnick took center stage; the cast having been already assembled and sprinkled throughout the audience. As each dancer shared stories of ‘personal remembrance’, Subotnick conducted them as he would an orchestra. Filled with musical cut-offs, crescendos, accents and accelerandos, the overlapping voices and interrupted sentences morphed into a polyphonic song. Once this entr’acte was complete, the cast took the stage with their official introduction; a wonderfully bizarre set of opening credits.

The undressing/dressing scene was slow and deliberate, like watching the effect of a strobe light. Here was pedestrian movement being stylized, as the dancers stared, trance-like, into the horizon. Each of the fourteen performers disrobed and then re-dressed in their own time, at their own pace and once completely dressed, resumed the walking and strolling that took up much of “Parades and Changes”. The second undressing tableau was a little different, with the addition of mirroring. No longer a lone experience, the performers worked in groups of twos and threes, imitating each other’s speed and movements. The paper-tearing section followed, and lastly, a rhythm percussion vignette, which was a little bit Judson and a little bit “Stomp” all at the same time.

Anna Halprin
Photo by Kent Reno

“Parades and Changes” is an example of Halprin’s scored choreography, where each dance is derived from a group of tasks/goals. From one performance to the next, the score for the same piece may occur in a different order and each segment’s duration may vary. A study and method of structured improvisation, this kind of choreographic system turns the self-indulgent practice of dance improv into a useful theatrical tool.

I had never seen “Parades and Changes” live before, though of course, was familiar with both its history and legacy. So, I was incredibly excited to have the opportunity to see such an important part of the postmodern oeuvre in person. And because of its newness for me, I assumed that I wouldn’t have expectations or preconceptions, but I did. “Parades and Changes” was very good and the major tenets of postmodernism were clearly present within it: egalitarianism, non-conformity, porous boundaries between life and art and a commitment to form and structure. However, it is impossible to ignore all the hype that surrounds this one dance. I was anticipating that it would absolutely change my life, and it didn’t. For me, it was most definitely an important experience but neither artistically nor academically revelatory.